


Once Upon a Dream

by liddellmisswitch13



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mainly on how the White Heron Cup goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 20:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21277082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liddellmisswitch13/pseuds/liddellmisswitch13
Summary: The White Heron Cup is approaching, but Linhardt never expected to be chosen. However, his dear professor uses this occasion not only to show he can dance, but show Linhardt something else as well.





	Once Upon a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I posted on here, so forgive me if the format is wonky and something is off. This game and fandom has inspired me enough to write again! Thanks for picking this fic to read, means a lot!
> 
> Also Sleeping Beauty exists in this world ok

There was no nice way of putting it: Linhardt was intimidated by their Professor. He rarely smiled, or showed any kind of emotion. However, after their trip to Remire Village, the professor’s face was a much more suitable canvas for emotion. His eyes gleamed with pride when Caspar was mastered a tactic, and his brow creased with frustration when Linhardt himself fell asleep through another lecture. He had become easier to read, but still held that unpredicted air that Hubert seemed to despise.

That air followed Professor Byleth today, when he approached Linhardt as he had his nose buried deep in a history book. Byleth waited a few seconds, then cleared his throat loudly. Linhardt looked up drowsily, and regarded his professor with a yawn. “Professor? Fancy seeing you here.” Linhardt’s eyes lit up a bit. “Have you come to accept my request to study your Crest?” When the professor shook his head no, Linhardt lost all interest.

“You’re going to be our representative for the White Heron Cup.” Byleth said plainly, raising his brows ever so slightly as Linhardt came to life with despair.

“Me?! You can’t be serious…” Linhardt said, burrowing his face into his hands. “I can’t be the only one. I heard Ferdinand would give his right arm to be the representative—why chose me?” He asked, looking up from his wallowing.

Byleth shrugged. “It was Edelgard’s idea. She said you could dance really well—better than Ferdinand. I also didn’t want to have to face Dorothea _and _Ferdinand if I didn’t pick one or the other. You were my middle man.”

“But Professorrrrr—” Linhardt whined, groaning as Byleth put his hand up to case the whining.

“I’ve made my choice, and as your professor, you must respect that choice.” Seeing his message being delivered, Byleth nodded and smiled—a soft and warm smile—that caught Linhardt off guard. “See you at the common grounds next week, okay? That’s when practice is.” He said, his voice warmer than it was just a second ago. He was happy, that much Linhardt could make out. He wouldn’t spoil it for his professor, so Linhardt accepted begrudgingly.

“Very well Professor…” He sighed, and went back to his reading as Byleth departed from the library. From the tops of the pages, Linhardt watched him. There was more life to his movements now, almost as if this was the desired result. Perhaps the professor had been nervous that Linhardt would flat out refuse—just as he had done when asked to attend lectures instead of nap—but this felt different.

That aside, he would have to get back at Edelgard for this. Something told Linhardt his insult at calling her an “overbearing mother” was the blame for this. No matter—he would ask Claude for help with that one…

One Week Later...

The common grounds were being used for dancing practice. This year’s Blue Lion representative was Dimitri (no surprise), and Lorenz for Golden Deer. Linhardt felt very out of place. Ferdinand, or even Hubert for goddess’s sake, would have been a better choice than himself. The professor, however, didn’t seem to think that way. While Professors Manuela and Hanneman worked with their rep, Byleth’s attention was on Linhardt.

To be under such an intimidating gaze made Linhardt uncomfortable, but the professor was being very patient and kind with him whenever a mistake was made. For a very powerful mercenary, Byleth knew a lot about dancing. “I didn’t take you for a silver toed dancer, Professor.” Linhardt commented, after being corrected in his posture.

Byleth hummed and stood back. “Oh, yes. I wanted to learn—as a child. My father indulged me and taught me what he knew. It was enough to impress a few nobles and village girls.” He said, a small amount of color coming to the regularly cold face.

The image of girls, rosy cheeked and doe eyed, vying for the Professor’s attention, and his hand for a dance, was not too hard to imagine. Why, it took place here every day! Girls from other houses and some faculty (mainly Professor Manuela) waved their hands—their excited calls of “Professor!” as the Professor ran past, embarked on a mission to return a lost thing. Linhardt entertained the thought for a while, before stumbling over his foot.

Byleth sighed and shook his head. “A little late there. It needs to be smoother.” He said. There was a twinkle in Byleth’s eye, and something in Linhardt’s mind said _oh no._ “Allow me.” Linhardt’s alert gaze snapped to the hand being offered. No one else was being guided in dance—and did winning really matter? “Linhardt?”

Linhardt blinked and looked at the professor, his eyes gentle. Something behind the navy gaze pleaded with him, to take the hand being offered. After a brief moment of contemplation, Linhardt nodded and took the black gloved hand. The professor’s grip was firm—deadly in some cases—but with Linhardt it was delicate. He was being mindful of the pressure and strength he was using. “Follow my lead.” Byleth said.

The situation in which he was in, and the proximity to the Professor’s person all kept Linhardt alert and quiet. Linhardt nodded, a feeling of warmth dusting his pale cheeks as the Professor placed a hand lightly on Linhardt’s waist. Linhardt, in turn, placed his and on the professor’s shoulder. Following his lead, Linhardt felt as if he was floating.

Byleth hummed a song—one Linhardt wasn’t sure he knew—as they glided across the grass, which could have been a smooth glass surface. Byleth’s features changed as they danced around their area: his eyes remained soft and gentle, some color was in his face. Perhaps it had been a while since he had to do such a thing, and having his peers look on was rather embarrassing for him.

Linhardt, however, was lost in those azure eyes. Something in them was exposing itself to him, a secret that only the goddess knew, and was showing it to Linhardt right here, in this fragile moment. Byleth kept humming, guiding Linhardt in their soft waltz, and his eyes on him.

For a moment, Linhardt felt safe. How could he not? This man had gone out of his way to keep every one of his students safe from harm. Linhardt’s mind went back to the bandits they cleared out of Zanado, the Western Church rebellion, and the fight with the Black Beast… Byleth was there, giving orders and saving their lives. Byleth didn’t have to care for them, or be kind and patient with them—but he was. He could have disregarded Linhardt’s aversion to blood, but Byleth took that to heart and made sure Linhardt was far from the combat, in the black lines as their white magic user. He listened, and answered their questions—

Soon, the color dusting Linhardt’s cheeks became darker, and his heart picked up in speed. The song Byleth was humming suddenly became familiar, and Linhardt joined him in their off timed humming, which came together. Linhardt couldn’t help but smile a bit, which made Byleth smile more in turn. Together, they smiled and danced, humming a song about a dream—a dream Linhardt didn’t want to wake from.

Byleth was the one to end the dance, letting go of Linhardt and bowing. The warmth that had enveloped Linhardt was now gone, leaving him cold. He returned the gesture and couldn’t help but smile sleepily. “Sleeping Beauty? Really?” He asked, crossing his arms loosely.

Byleth rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. “It was the only waltz type song I could remember off the top of my head. Forgive me if it…gave the wrong idea.” Byleth bowed again in apology, face tinted with more color. Linhardt found this amusing.

“It’s unlike you Professor, but I am not complaining. Today has been rather interesting and insightful.” Linhardt said, smiling a bit. While he might have learned how to dance properly (something he might not remember or use again), he also learned something that dwelled deep within the professor’s heart.

The people around them clapped, and Professor Manuela cooed. “How cute! You two make quite the dance partners. Say, professor, if you don’t have anyone to take to the ball…” She offered, winking. Byleth shook his head.

Linhardt bid them all a good day and then left. All that dancing tuckered him out—perhaps that enchanted moment could be continued in a very peaceful dream…

The White Heron Cup came, and went without so much as a shiver. Linhardt lost (to Dimitri, which was fine by him), but the Professor was proud of him regardless. Linhardt learned a lot more than he expected, which included his own feelings for the Professor. All that time admiring him (before and after his Crest) formed something in him that Linhardt didn’t realize until the day they danced. The actual Ball would be arriving soon, which gave Linhardt an idea. It was bold, but, something told him being bold was the only way to remain in the professor’s life indefinitely.

**Author's Note:**

> The dancing scene was hugely inspired by an art work by @/mayst0rm on Twitter, and the rendition of "Once Upon a Dream" from Maleficent was used as the song they sort of danced to. I love Byhardt so much, I just had to.


End file.
